Squeaky Swings and Tall Grass
by native portlandian
Summary: Summer camp counseling isn't as fun as it seems. Especially when your partner is a wannabe comedian. AU.
1. Chapter 1

On a stark bedside table, the hands of a classic black alarm clock ticked the last few seconds to five a.m. Without much fanfare, it began to shrilly ring. From beneath a large dark blue comforter, a thin, pale hand reached out. The fingers trailed over the tabletop, black nails scraping over the varnished wood. When they reached the shuddering alarm, the hand suddenly reared up and slammed back down, affectively silencing the shrieking. The hand slid back under the covers.

A calendar on the wall showed the date: June 1st. It was circled three times in red marker. Written in small, even handwriting were the words "Counselor training for Jump Summer Camp". On a chair next to a filled bookcase sat a purple duffel bag. A blue sleeping bag was placed precariously on top of that.

The pile of blankets on the bed shifted, and a girl sat up, looking cranky. Her chin-length black hair was sticking up in the back, and her eyes bore the smudge of yesterday's mascara. She glanced over at the calendar and the duffel bag and sighed.

Rachel Roth was not a people person. On top of that, she was _definitely_ not a children person. So when her mother practically forced her to sign up for summer camp counseling, she considered it more of a punishment than an opportunity. For what, she had no idea.

"Trust me, honey," her mom had said when Rachel brought it up. "You'll thank me for the experience." Rachel doubted that this would ever happen in a million years, but wasn't going to back out now.

She pulled herself out of bed and padded toward the bathroom, intent on taking a shower to look at least mildly presentable. Not that she wanted to impress anyone or anything. The rest of the counselors were most likely other college kids who just wanted to earn credit for a failed course. Rachel didn't fail any courses. On the contrary, she was getting credit so she didn't have to do any P.E.

She stood in the shower, putting next to no effort in scrubbing the lavender shampoo into her hair. Afterwards, she didn't even bother drying her hair; she just brushed it and let it hang around her face in a wet black curtain. She brushed her teeth and did all that she needed to with not even a hint of enthusiasm. She was going to do this, but it didn't mean she had to like it.

At first glance, no one seemed to be in the kitchen. This made sense, considering that it wasn't even six 'o'clock yet, but her mother was a notoriously early riser. Rachel grabbed the teakettle and filled it with water, keeping one ear open for her mother. While she waited for her tea to boil, she sat down at the dining table and focused her gaze on the window above the sink. The aspen tree in their front yard was ruffling slightly in a breeze. The early morning sun cast the world in a faint glow. Rachel sneered. She didn't like the sun. This was an issue, considering her life in California. Maybe she should have chosen a college on the East Coast.

The growing scream of the teakettle brought Rachel back down into reality, and the young woman stood and pulled it off of the stove. She got on her tiptoes to reach the shelf where the tea was kept. As she stretched for it, she wondered why they even bothered putting the tea up so high – neither of the household occupants topped five feet five inches. When Rachel's fingers finally brushed the box holding chamomile (her favorite), she was startled by the sudden appearance of her mother's voice behind her.

"Rachel, do you need help?"

Rachel knocked the box to the floor when she flinched, spilling tea packets everywhere. She grimaced, closing her eyes tightly. Did her mother need to be so _quiet_?

"I got it," she said gruffly, now cleaning up the mess she had made. Her mother remained standing a few feet away, watching her daughter with mildly worried blue eyes. Rachel stood, meeting her gaze with an identical one. "Did you need something?"

Angela Roth had been beautiful once. At least, she looked beautiful in the old pictures of herself. Now she just looked like a skinny, sad-eyed woman in a worn bathrobe and slippers. She had conceived Rachel at the tender age of sixteen from an older man. Rachel's father had never really stuck around much. He was a horrid, violent person whom had actually sought Rachel out more than once to practically torment her. They had eventually been able to put a restraining order on him, but Trenton Roth fought it every day.

"Did you want tea?" Rachel asked, turning away from her mother. She hated think about her father, and looking at Angela tended to bring along thoughts of _him_.

"Sure," Angela murmured. Rachel heard a chair scrape across the floor – her mother was sitting down. Rachel sighed inwardly. This meant she would have to talk to her. Rachel poured the boiling water into two mugs and plopped in the teabags. Stiffly, she turned and walked to the table, holding one out to her mother. "Thank you," Angela said as she took the cup. Rachel sat down, clutching the hot mug between both hands. She watched the tea leach into the water and wished it would go faster.

"Are you excited to be a counselor?" Angela asked, sipping her mug.

"No," Rachel answered briskly. She had never been one for comforting lies. "I don't want to go."

Angela pursed her lips. She brushed a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. "It will be a good experience. You'll make friends."

Rachel scowled. "I _have_ friends, mother." She didn't, really. But she hated when her mother was right.

Angela tapped her fingernails against the ceramic cup. She wouldn't meet her daughter's eyes. "You'll make new friends," she amended.

Rachel still felt bitter. "They're all gonna be perky and bubbly. Or idiots. Or both, if I'm lucky." Of course, she didn't actually know anything about camp counseling. Most of her information and opinions were products of horror movies.

She and her mother finished their tea in silence. The sun steadily rose in the sky. At six a.m., Rachel stood and said a quick goodbye to her mother before going to her room and grabbing her bags. Since the only car they had they shared, Rachel had to take the bus out to the campsite. Rachel hated public buses. The day was striking up to be awful.

The bus arrived at six fifteen, and she stumbled on, duffel and sleeping bag in tow. As soon as she sat, she pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt and took out a book. The bus was almost entirely empty, so Rachel put her bags in the seat next to her and leaned her head against the window. She settled in for a long ride.

…

Rachel was woken up by the sudden bump of the bus leaving the paved road for gravel. She gingerly unstuck her face from the window and picked up her book off of the seat, shoving it back into her bag. She could not recall when exactly she had fallen asleep, but when she looked around, the bus housed completely different people than she last remembered. They were all around her age, and each had big suitcases near them. Rachel deducted that these must be her fellow counselors. Keeping her hood up, she glanced around the bus, taking each in.

In the seat just behind the driver was a boy with black hair gelled into spikes and dark sunglasses. He was staring straight ahead, no expression on his boyish face. Rachel could practically smell his cologne from where she was sitting. A few rows behind him was a gorgeous, tan, long-legged girl with long red hair and glittering green eyes. She was flipping through a girly looking magazine. Rachel scowled. This chick _screamed_ sorority. Rachel _hated_ sororities.

Rachel turned slightly. A few rows behind her and across the aisle was a girl with bubblegum pink hair arranged in edgy pigtails. She was dressed entirely in black, and scowling at her phone. Rachel assumed it wasn't getting a signal. Leaning over Pink Hair's seat was a boy with a thatch of fiery red hair and an explosion of freckles on his face. He was talking her ear off, apparently oblivious to the fact that she wasn't listening.

At the very back of the bus, two boys and a girl were laughing loudly about something. The girl was leaning over the back of her seat, so Rachel couldn't see her face. The girl was slim, with lean-muscles and skin the color of dark chocolate. Her curly hair was arranged into two massive pigtails. She was listening to the story of a boy roughly twice her size, who had a shaved scalp and a very bright white smile. This along with his gray eyes contrasted intensely with his brown skin.

And lastly, leaning in to the others' conversation, was a lanky boy with wild blonde hair. To Rachel, it looked like the kid hadn't brushed his hair after waking up with extreme bedhead. He had a brilliantly wide smile with a few crooked teeth, and his eyes were a very dark green. Freckles lightly speckled his nose and cheeks.

 _He's kind of cute_.

Rachel jerked her head forward at the thought. Where in the world had that come from? Rachel did _not_ think boys were cute. Boys were stupid and overrated. What gave this stranger the right to be mildly attractive?

 _He's probably a horrible person_ , Rachel thought to herself, leaning deeper into her seat. _And since when were blondes ever interesting people?_

Sure, it wasn't fair to be judging him so harshly without even meeting him, but Rachel was making an exception for this boy. He wasn't cute. Not even in the slightest. And the sooner her brain caught onto that, the better.

The bus stopped with a jolt. Rachel turned to look out the window. They had stopped in front of a large expanse of well-trod grass. In the middle of this expanse was a flagpole, and beyond the flagpole was a large, wood building. On the edges of the grass expanse were eight wood cabins. The whole expanse was surrounded by huge pine trees. Distantly, she could see little trailheads here and there. Rachel groaned. Could this place be any more stereotypical?

The doors opened, and everyone began to get off of the bus. Apparently, they had all grabbed their gear and stood instead of gaping out the window like her. Rachel briefly cursed herself and struggled to get her things together while the rest of the counselors got off of the bus.

"Need any help?" asked a friendly voice. Rachel looked up, and immediately blushed when she came face to face with the blonde kid. He had that ridiculous grin on his face.

"No," she answered, perhaps a little quickly. The boy shrugged one shoulder.

"Well, alrightie then," he said lightly. He continued down the aisle, whistling. For some reason, this made Rachel dislike him even more.

When the bus left, leaving the eight teenagers in a cloud of dust and exhaust, Rachel became aware of two figures standing at the base of the flagpole. Everyone was heading toward them. Rachel followed.

Up close, she realized that the two figures were a man and a woman. Each were tall and relatively muscular, as if they were professional athletes. Both had wavy black hair and blue eyes, although the man's were a shade or two darker. Rachel thought they could be siblings.

"Hey, counselors!" the woman said as soon as they were close enough. She raised a hand in a half wave. A few of the group mumbled a greeting back.

"Welcome the Camp Jump," the man added, smiling. He was classically handsome. "I'm Mr. Kent."

"And I'm Miss Prince," the woman finished. "We run this place, and are going to be training you in the art of camp counseling for the entirety of this week."

"Campers arrive the week after," Mr. Kent picked up. Rachel couldn't help but marvel at how well rehearsed this was. Was there some kind of teleprompter behind them? "Each of you will be in charge of a cabin of eight kids ranging from age twelve to fifteen."

"Shouldn't be too hard." Miss Prince smiled. "There are four rotation activities you will be monitoring in teams of two: leadership, arts, sports, and nature." With each one, she ticked off a finger. Rachel immediately decided she wanted to monitor art. Maybe the girl with the pink hair could be her partner – she seemed alright.

"You can put your things in Cabin One for now." Mr. Kent pointed to the closest cabin on their right. "Then report back to the flagpole for partner assignments."

Rachel heaved her bag up onto her shoulder and followed the group towards the cabin. It took her a moment to realize that the sorority girl was walking beside her, looking at her expectantly. Rachel glanced over, her eyes narrowed somewhat.

"Hello!" the girl cried as soon as their eyes met. She had a thick accent that Rachel couldn't quite place. "My name is Kori Anders. What is yours?"

"Rachel," Rachel said after a moment. When she didn't say anything else, Kori took it upon herself to continue the conversation.

"It is wonderful to meet you, friend Rachel!" she exclaimed. "I am very excited to be working with you!"

"Yeah."

"I have never been to the 'summer camp' before. Have you?"

"No."

"Do you go to the University?"

"Obviously." Rachel was beginning to wish Kori would talk to someone else. She hadn't had this long of a conversation in weeks. They had reached the cabin, and Rachel purposefully broke away from the redhead, hoping she'd catch the hint. Unfortunately, Kori just followed her. She had a glittery pink bag and a matching suitcase. A purple sleeping bag better suited for sleepovers than the outdoors was rolled on top of her suitcase. Rachel pulled her hood closer around her face. Everyone was staring at Kori, especially the boys. So, by proxy, Rachel was also in their line of sight.

"I very much enjoy your jeans!" Kori said, pointing at Rachel's legs. Rachel felt like a million eyes were staring at her.

"Uh, thanks," she mumbled. Everyone was heading back out of the door. Bags were scattered everywhere. Rachel jammed her hands into her pockets and stepped into the minefield. Kori followed, making comments on everyone's baggage. Rachel tuned her out.

Back at the flagpole, everyone had gathered into something of a ragged circle. Rachel remained slightly towards the back of the group, behind the shoulders of two other counselors. Kori squeezed in next to her. Mr. Kent clapped his hands together, obviously glad that everyone had gotten the simple directions right. He flashed yet another brilliant smile. Rachel briefly wondered if this man had ever done toothpaste commercials.

"If you all could spread into a larger circle, that would be great," he said cheerily. Everyone obliged. "Alright. Now what we are going to do is play a little game to get to know each other." Rachel groaned inwardly. She hated these kind of games.

"The game is called "Two Truths and a Lie"," Miss Prince explained. She picked up a beach ball from next to the pole. "And it is exactly what it sounds like. The person with the beach ball gives their name, two truths about themselves, and a lie - not particularly in that order. The goal is for everyone else to guess which one is the lie. I'll begin, and we will pass the ball around the circle." She smiled prettily, twirling the beach ball between her fingers. "My name is Miss Prince. I was born on a Greek island. I have worked for the government. I have been married before."

Everyone was quiet. Rachel briefly wished she hadn't gotten on the bus at all. Finally, the red-haired kid raised a hand. Miss Prince nodded at him. He cleared his throat, looking somewhat nervous. "Uh, you don't have an accent, so I'm gonna go with Greek island."

The huge guy with gray eyes sniffed. "Nah, man. There's no way she worked for the government. I mean, no offense miss, but why would you go from government employee to summer camp overseer? It just doesn't add up." Rachel found herself agreeing. Despite his jock persona, this guy seemed to be pretty smart.

Miss Prince smiled. "You're both wrong. I have never been married." Both of the boys looked dumfounded. With a chuckle, the tall woman playfully tossed the ball to her fellow overseer. Mr. Kent flashed her a smile.

"I'm Mr. Kent," he said. "I've also never been married. I've changed my name. I used to be a reporter."

"Name change," the girl with pink hair supplied. She had apparently put her phone away and was now looking on with near boredom. Everyone else nodded. Even Rachel found herself bobbing her head.

"Nope." Mr. Kent had a very loud voice, and it seemed to ring through the trees. "I'm a married man. My lovely wife is named Lois." He gently passed the ball to the pink-haired girl, who looked almost miffed at getting Mr. Kent's lie wrong. She rolled her eyes at the ball, holding it only with the tips of her long pink nails.

"Name's Jennifer," she began. "Uh, people call me Jinx. My favorite food is blueberry pie. I, um, used to shave off my eyebrows." Rachel wrinkled her nose at that last one, hoping it was the lie.

"Why would people call you Jinx?" the red-haired boy asked. He seemed very intrigued by her.

She shrugged, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. "Maybe I'm bad luck."

"Does blueberry pie even exist?" the girl with pigtails asked. Her eyebrow was arched high on her forehead.

"Yes," Jennifer smiled, "and it's delicious. Also, I've never shaved off my eyebrows. That's nuts." Rachel let out a tiny breath. Jennifer tossed the beach ball. It landed right into the cute blonde boy's arms.

 _No, not cute_ , Rachel corrected. _Not even a little._

"Well, I'm Garfield!" the boy said enthusiastically. "Let's see. I'm pretty interesting, so this shouldn't be too hard." He tucked the ball under one arm, stroking his chin comically. A few people chuckled. Rachel glared. Garfield snapped his fingers, as if he had just figured out what to say. "Alrightie. I'm really funny, my favorite color is blue, and I'm vegetarian."

"It's probably the one about you being funny," Rachel mumbled, somewhat under her breath. She had expected no one to hear, so it was surprising when a good portion of the counselors-to-be burst into laughter. Garfield caught Rachel's gaze and stuck his tongue out at her playfully. She just blushed.

"No, I'm hilarious!" he cried out. "But my favorite color's green!" With that, he shot the ball in her direction. She just barely caught it. Rachel suddenly wished she hadn't opened her mouth at all.

"Uh, my name is Rachel," she muttered. She was looking down at the ball instead of at anyone else. "I like to read. I live with my mom. And…um…my favorite color is pink."

"Pink," everyone chorused. Rachel wanted to crawl into a hole. She threw the ball randomly, hoping someone would catch it.

The pigtail girl made a diving catch, earning a few impressed whistles. Rachel barely paid attention. She did catch that the girl's name was Karen, she went by Bee, and she could beat anyone in any challenge. This earned a few more competitive cries. Everyone was in a good mood now.

Kori seemed totally confused by the whole deal of the game. When the ball was thrown to her, she first told everyone three truths (she was from France, her sister was named Kami, and she had a yorkie dog named Silkie). After general confusion when the girl insisted they were all true, Miss Prince attempted explaining the game again. There were then a few more tries in which Kori gave every combination of truths and lies that wasn't the wanted one.

The ball was then forcefully given to Richard, the dark-haired boy who smelled like strong cologne. Despite the antics, he appeared to be in as much of a good mood as Rachel. Richard liked puzzles and coffee. He seemed mildly interesting. Rachel found herself wanting to get to know him better.

The big black guy was Victor, an All-American football player and a lover of all things food. He also had a prosthetic leg ("I'm secretly a pirate," he'd joked, pulling his pant leg back down). The last person was the red-haired boy, apparently named Wally. He ran track and moved around a lot as a kid.

"Well, that was fun!" Miss Prince said when the ball was tossed back to her. She flipped her black ponytail over one shoulder, turning to face Mr. Kent. "We learned quite a lot."

"Especially about Kori," Garfield joked. Everyone laughed – except for Rachel. Garfield had been putting in more and more of these little one-liners during the ice-breaker game, as if proving his original comment about being funny. It ground Rachel's nerves, especially when they actually were a little laughable.

"On that note," Mr. Kent chuckled, "let's give you all your partner assignments." He pulled a small notebook from his back jean pocket. It looked like one a reporter would use. He flipped a few pages in, then cleared his throat. "Richard, your partner will be Kori. You will be monitoring leadership." The two looked at each other. Kori smiled and gave him a tiny wave. Richard nodded awkwardly, pursing his lips. He was still wearing those sunglasses.

"Victor, your partner will be Karen. You will be monitoring sports."

"Don't call me Karen," she corrected, slapping Victor's outstretched palm. "It's Bee."

"Jennifer, your partner will be Wally. You will be monitoring arts."

Rachel's heart sank. There was only one person left.

"And, last but not least, our nature monitors will be Rachel and Garfield."

…

A/N – Hello, you cuties. I have no idea where this is going. Hopefully there will be more? Let me know if you like it? Anywho, I was working on Subtle Differences and I had a massive brain-splosion AU idea that I just _had_ to write. Sorrynotsorry. This has probably been done before, but I do not give a single hoot. Hope y'all enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

Camping: the horrible, dirty, wet activity of choosing to sleep in the woods when there is a perfectly good indoor bed available. This was Rachel's definition, anyway. Right now, she was sitting on a mossy log, arms crossed, feeling entirely miserable.

"C'mon, Rach," Garfield said. He was on one knee, struggling to set up the rickety looking two-man tent. "I can't set this up all by myself!"

"Don't call me 'Rach'," Rachel hissed. Over the course of the past three hours – during their trek through the forest, in which they got lost twice – Garfield had been desperately trying to connect with Rachel in any way possible. He told awful jokes, made up three different nicknames for her, and tripped over things on purpose trying to make her laugh. She made a point of not.

After some down time (in which they were supposed to be bonding), Mr. Kent and Miss Prince sent everyone on their first partner assignment: following a pre-made map to a location where camping equipment was piled. Then they had to set up a tent and survive the night with their partner.

Rachel was considering stabbing her eyes with a stick.

"Okay, I think I got the stick thingy to attach to the other stick thingy," Garfield mumbled, half to himself. Rachel crinkled her nose up. The sad tent looked more like a trash bag full of awkward-shaped angles. It definitely was not something she wanted to sleep in.

"That does not look like a tent," Rachel muttered. "It looks like a garbage bag."

Garfield clenched his jaw. He seemed to have gotten over trying to make her laugh and was now just as annoyed with her as she was with him. _Good_. "It'd look a lot better if I had any help," he said pointedly.

"I thought you were the expert," Rachel deadpanned. Garfield rolled his eyes. Earlier, he had mentioned being a boy scout and had refused to let her try to read the directions. Rachel had kept trying to read the direction to herself, much to Garfield's frustration. Eventually, the boy tore the paper out of her hands, crinkled it up, and shoved it in his mouth. They hadn't talked to each other for ten minutes.

Garfield was blushing. "Well, I guess I should've mentioned that I was seven."

Rachel narrowed her eyes. What a stubborn idiot. How could she have ever thought he was cute? "What now, Garfield?"

The blonde boy sat back on his heels, looking at their sad excuse for a tent. "Uh, it seems stable enough. Lemme just –" He fell onto his hands and knees and crawled into what must be the entrance. Rachel watched, one eyebrow raised. She heard him clear his throat. "Okay, it's somewhat cramped, and there's a thing poking out of the side, but maybe it's supposed to be there. Like art."

"Shut up and fix it," Rachel said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

It was quiet for a moment. And then, with very little fanfare, the tent deflated. A few of the connecting sticks flew out of the way. Sitting in the middle was a lump that Rachel assumed must be Garfield. The lump sighed and pulled the tent fabric off his head. His hair stuck up even more now. He looked defeated.

"I don't think I fixed it," Garfield mumbled, looking around at the successfully disassembled tent. Rachel couldn't help it – she felt a pang of pity for the boy.

"Well, we can start over," she said softly. "I'll help."

He looked up at her, smiling. His green eyes shone with happiness. Rachel immediately regretted saying anything. Why was he looking cute again? She was doing so well at ignoring it!

They spent the next twenty minutes trying to remember what the directions said. Garfield put in a lot of "gut feeling" jokes. It was annoying, but she could live with it. She'd have to.

The tent eventually came together, looking somewhat usable. Rachel was still skeptical of its structural integrity, but it would do as a shelter. They sat across from each other over a lantern, neither really knowing how to make a campfire. Garfield had offered, but Rachel refused to let him use anymore of his "camping expertise".

Garfield was now struggling to open a bag of marshmallows. Rachel watched, amusement glittering in her eyes. "Jeez, what do they make these out of?" Garfield asked no one in particular. He grabbed the corner with his teeth and pulled viciously. The marshmallows exploded everywhere.

Rachel plucked the sugary puff off of her shoe and tossed it aside. "That wasn't very smart," she observed.

"Hey, I opened it, okay?" Garfield said, a hint of aggression entering his voice. To punctuate this, he picked out a mallow from the bag and popped it in his mouth. "Now we have marshmallows." His mouth was full, so the words came out garbled. Rachel narrowed her eyes in disgust.

"Don't chew with your mouth open," she growled. One of his dark eyebrows rose as he swallowed.

"Why does it bother you?" he asked. Rachel scoffed.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" she snapped. Garfield blinked slowly.

"Guess not. We were too busy having fun." It could have been something said light and jokingly, but Garfield seemed almost melancholy when he said it. Rachel suddenly felt ashamed, as if she had tread on a touchy subject. She opened her mouth to apologize, when he interrupted her.

"I think we're supposed to be bonding or somethin'," he pointed out, shifting his weight so he was facing her. His face turned a soft gold in the lamplight. "Wanna play a game?"

Rachel chewed her lip, still feeling bad. "Maybe. What did you have in mind?"

Garfield shrugged one shoulder. "Uh, how about we ask each other questions? Like truth or dare without the dare."

"And if I don't want to answer?" Rachel asked slowly. She'd heard of this tactic before – it just involved getting into her personal life.

"You don't hafta," Garfield beamed. "But I'm an open book. Wanna go first?"

She thought for a moment. "Um. What's your major at Jump?"

"Zoology. What's yours?" He shot the answer and question back at her so fast that Rachel needed to take a moment to think.

"English. Why are you vegetarian?"

Garfield smirked. This must have been a question he got often. "I like animals. I don't wanna eat 'em. What's your favorite book?"

Rachel thought for a moment. This was actually somewhat interesting. "I'm partial to Edgar Allan Poe. What's your favorite animal?"

"Oh, man!" Garfield held his hands to his head. His eyes were bright. "That's a _really_ hard one!" The game continued in this casual fashion for another ten minutes or so. Half a bag of mallows and two chocolate bars later, their questions began to get deeper, more probing.

"Who's your best friend?" Garfield asked, leaning towards her. There was a smudge of chocolate on his upper lip. Rachel kept finding herself wanting to wipe it away.

"I don't have one," she answered softly. She looked at the lamp. A few moths buzzed around it. "Who's yours?"

Garfield was quiet for a moment. "You don't have a best friend?"

Rachel blushed. "Didn't I just answer this question, Garfield?"

He was quiet again. "I guess my best friend is my girlfriend."

Rachel felt her heart stop on her chest. She willed it to continue. Why did it matter whether or not he had a girlfriend? "Oh. That's nice."

Garfield picked of a stick from the ground. He broke it in half. "It really is. Her name's Tara. She's really cool. She's also a science major." When he spoke about her, his voice took on a dreamy lilt. For some reason, Rachel found herself steadily disliking this girl. "Do you have a boyfriend, Rach?"

She had almost missed the question. Without really thinking, she let a harsh bark of laughter escape her lips. "Hah. No."

The boy across from her raised an eyebrow. "Or a girlfriend?"

Rachel blushed. "No. Neither. I'm not a relationship kind of person."

Now Garfield was blushing. "Uh, you mean like, one-night stands and stuff?"

"Let me amend that – I'm not a _people_ type of person." God, why did he have to ask such personal questions?

"Ah." He definitely looked slightly more comfortable. "Did someone turn you off or are you just not into that sort of stuff?"

"Why do you want to know so badly, Garfield?" Rachel asked, perhaps a little more snappishly than necessary.

Garfield shrugged. They spent a moment in silence, staring at the moths attacking the lamplight. The moment extended into a little more than a moment, and Rachel started to feel bad. He had really only meant well. Perhaps she shouldn't have reacted so bitterly. She opened her mouth to apologize.

"It's gettin' kinda late," Garfield mumbled, standing up. He grabbed the lamp and held out a hand to Rachel. She stared at it for a second before taking it, allowing him to help her up. His grasp was strong and warm, and made her stomach flip a little. When he slipped it back out of her grasp, her hand immediately became cold.

"Yeah," she mumbled, somewhat breathlessly. Good lord, all she had done was hold her hand for three seconds!

"Which part of the tent do you want?" he asked. He was shifting from foot to foot, looking away from her. She could understand his discomfort – it's not every day you share a small space with someone of the opposite gender.

They soon agreed to put their sleeping bags on opposing sides of the small tent. Rachel took the right. As she crawled into her sleeping bag, she carefully listened to Garfield get into his. He had offered to leave the tent while she changed, but she declined. Rachel was too nervous to change out of her clothes. Garfield, who apparently had zero sense of personal space, stripped down to his underwear in a matter of seconds, directly in front of her. Rachel had kept her view fixed on the tent wall, her pale face a dangerous red.

Rachel curled onto her side, facing away from the mostly naked boy. Even if he was now in his sleeping bag, she couldn't get the image of his lean-muscled form out of her head. She had tried so hard not to look, but he must have noticed her taking a glance, because he had chuckled and comically flexed his muscles. She had never been more uncomfortable.

There was a foot of space in between them. The lamp rested between both of their heads, along with the tiny portable alarm clock. Rachel was having trouble breathing. Could this tent be _any_ smaller?

"I'm gonna turn off the light," Garfield stated. He sat up slightly, looking over at her. Rachel dare not look back; the sleeping bag had fallen slightly, exposing his bare chest.

"That's fine," she said stiffly. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt tighter around her skull.

There was a click, and the light went out. Fabric rustled as Garfield got back into a comfortable position. It was quiet. Rachel could hear crickets.

"G'night, Rach," Garfield whispered.

She furrowed her eyebrows and sighed. Lord knew she did _not_ want that nickname. "Goodnight, Garfield."

Silence. Then: "Ya know, you're the only person I know besides Rita who calls me my whole name."

Rachel didn't bother to ask who Rita was. "It's how you introduced yourself."

Garfield huffed a laugh. "None of my friends call me Garfield."

"I don't see a reason to change, then."

This instituted a real laugh. "Aw, c'mon, Rach! We gotta be friends! Isn't that the point?"

Rachel sighed. "What would you like me to call you?"

The boy was quiet for a moment. He flipped over in his sleeping bag. Perhaps he was facing her. She didn't check. "Gar. Call me Gar."

"Okay," she murmured. The crickets and the thick blanket of darkness were lulling her into sleep. "Goodnight, Gar."

"Night, Rach."


	3. Chapter 3

The first day of counselor training was going exactly how Rachel expected: awful. She had woken up, cramped and cold, with Garfield's lean arm draped over her. She immediately rectified this by shoving it away, not even stirring her tent-mate. Since neither could start a fire, Rachel could only look longingly at the kettle and tea and coffee packets. She ate a granola bar and changed outside, all before Garfield even woke up. The alarm went off at nine a.m. Rachel learned very quickly that her counseling partner was not a morning person. Garfield stumbled out of the tent, realized he wasn't wearing pants, and went back in. Ten minutes later, Rachel went back in and woke him up for the second time.

They cleaned up the campground, disassembled the tent, and packed up, arguing all the while. The temporary truce from the night before was apparently long gone. After everything was packed up, they walked back along the map trail to the main cabin area. During this time, Rachel and Garfield were silent, only speaking to give directions.

They were the last group to show up to the flag pole. Everyone else seemed in a relatively good mood. Victor and Bee were playing rock, paper, scissors over and over again, smiles of determination on each other's faces. Wally was leaning on Jennifer's shoulder, saying something into her ear. She pushed him away playfully. Kori was going on and on about something to her partner, who was watching her with a shy smile.

Rachel felt like throwing up. This bonding experience had really _worked_ for some people?!

"Hey, Rachel and Gar!" Miss Prince called, waving a hand. She ran over to them, meeting them halfway. "How was it?"

Garfield scratched behind one ear. "I think I got fleas." Rachel just scowled.

"You are too funny!" Miss Prince guffawed. She smacked Garfield on the shoulder, nearly pushing him over. "C'mon, it's time for brunch!"

The two overseers lead the group into the biggest building. There was one table set up with ten chairs around it. Pushed up against the walls were many, many more folded tables and chairs. A tiny buffet was set up by the back wall. It housed a few covered trays. The whole room smelled wonderful.

Rachel made a point to separate from Garfield, putting as much space between them as possible. She got a large, warm waffle and a glass of orange juice and sat down at the other end of the table from him. This spot just so happened to be right next to Kori.

"Good morning, friend Rachel!" Kori cried, throwing her arms around the smaller girl. Rachel was nearly overwhelmed by the sudden wave of strawberry scent. How had this woman managed to still smell nice after spending the night in the woods was beyond her. Rachel was just hoping she didn't have sap on the seat of her jeans.

Kori had a bowl of frootloops and two strips of bacon in front of her. She hadn't poured any milk over the colorful little cereal pieces. Across from her sat the boy with the sunglasses. Rachel remembered that his name was Richard. Richard had a few slices of ham, bacon, eggs, and hash browns. He was pouring coffee from a canteen into a metal mug. He looked very grumpy.

"Excuse me!" Kori called suddenly, frightening Rachel. Mr. Kent turned and looked at the redhead, both eyebrows raised in a question. Kori smiled. "Do you have the mustard?"

Mr. Kent's eyes flashed to her breakfast before going back to her. His face took on a look of confusion, but he didn't outright question her. "I can check the kitchen, if you'd like."

"Oh, that would be most glorious!" Kori clapped her hands. Mr. Kent laughed and stood up, heading to a pair of doors on the other side of the dining hall. Kori turned her near-luminous gaze onto Rachel. "Have you been acquainted with my partner, Richard? Do not be intimidated, he is the 'big softie'."

Richard blushed, but besides that his expression remained unchanged. Rachel gave him a small nod. He nodded back and resumed his meal. Kori did not seemed perturbed by their lack of words. She was practically watching Rachel eat.

"Who is your partner again, Rachel? I believe I have forgotten his name," Kori paused, eyes flicking over Rachel's head. She didn't check, but Rachel was sure Kori was looking at Gar. "He looked like an amusement."

"Garfield," Rachel muttered, tearing at her waffle. She made a point not to use the name he had insisted upon.

"Ah, like the cat! The one with a taste for Italian food!" Kori clapped her hands together.

"Uh, sure."

"So, how was your camping experience with Garfield?" Kori asked patiently. Rachel felt a little bad. This girl seemed genuinely interested in being her friend. She'd learn soon enough. They all did.

Like a savior, Mr. Kent swooped in and placed a bottle of mustard in front of Kori. "There ya go, Kor."

"Oh, thank you most kindly!" Kori practically screamed. She grabbed ahold of the mustard with both hands and squirted a generous amount over her frootloops. Richard's eyebrow crinkled, but he just sipped his coffee without comment. Rachel swallowed back her breakfast as she watched Kori take a yellowy spoonful and shove it between her lips.

She briefly wondered if she would be spending her summer with at least one normal person. As watched Kori chow down on her mustard cereal, washing it down with orange juice, she threw the thought out the window.

…

"It's not as easy as it looks," Mr. Kent said, pointing to the array of ropes tied tight between two trees. "Completing the Spider Web requires strategy, strength, and most importantly of all, teamwork."

Rachel quirked an eyebrow at the spectacle before her. It was indeed a "spider web", or at least how a spider web would be arranged in a cartoon. Various holes, each about two feet square, filled the formation, which started about two feet up and ended around eight. The idea of the game was to get everyone through. The catch was that they couldn't use one hole twice. Rachel was not looking forward to any of it.

All of the counselors-to-be gathered in a loose circle. Everyone looked at each other, waiting for suggestions. Richard was scrutinizing the web like it was a math problem. His sunglasses glinted in the morning sunlight.

"I have a plan," he said firmly. Everyone turned to him immediately. It was almost like they had been waiting for someone to step up as leader. Richard filled the role well, despite his relatively small stature and quiet demeanor. "We'll need the two strongest on each side, so we'll get someone through first."

Victor raised one massive hand. "Allow me, coach," he smiled. He was wearing shorts today, and Rachel couldn't help but sneak a glance at his prosthetic. She briefly wondered how he had lost his leg.

"Alright, we'll need to get you through one of the bottom holes," Richard surmised. "No offense, but I don't think any of us can lift you very far."

Victor laughed heartily. "No problem, Rich." He bent down and began to shimmy through one of the bottom holes. For a terrifying moment, Rachel thought he would get stuck. Victor's shoulders were _pretty_ wide, after all. But the football player made it all the way through, even standing and bowing when he got to the other side. Everyone whooped and hollered. Rachel even smiled slightly. Mr. Kent took two strips of duct tape and made an X across the hole. Only two more remained on the bottom.

"Okay," Richard continued, looking around at everyone. "The rest of us are pretty limber-looking. A tall person can take one of the lower holes, but we'll have to keep one open for the last person over here." He seemed to be scrutinizing everyone, measuring them. Rachel rubbed her elbow. She wasn't tall _or_ strong, so she had no idea what that meant for her.

Richard finally made his decision. "Kori, you'll go over next. Karen, you stay here. Wally, you'll go after Kori."

"What about me?" Garfield asked suddenly. He stretched his neck up so it raised slightly above Richard's. "I'm tall."

Richard was silent. For a second, Rachel thought he was going to say something possibly offensive. Instead, the black-haired man calmly answered, "We need strong people on this side to get the lighter people across."

Garfield nodded, taking this in. "You're right, Richie," he said with a cocky smile. "We need _some_ muscle on this side." Both Karen and Victor burst into laughter. Rachel had to hold back her own at the look on Gar's face.

Kori glanced at the web, and then at Wally. "May I boost you to the higher hole, friend?"

Wally looked almost miffed. "Can you even hold me up?"

Kori giggled. "It is only a boost. And I am much stronger than I look."

"Alright," Wally said, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. "So how do you –"

Kori got down on one knee and held out her hands. "It is not that high up, either." The orange-haired boy shrugged and placed one Nike on Kori's hands. She easily boosted him to the other side, where Victor grabbed him and helped him down. Kori hopped through one of the lower holes. Mr. Kent marked off both.

Everyone looked at Richard for the next instruction. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Karen, can you boost me to the other side, please? Like Kori did."

"No prob, boss," Karen said cheerfully. They went to the hole opposite of where Wally had gone. In much the same fashion, she hoisted him up, and he slid through. Rachel was surprised by the sheer amount of grace Richard showed – he hadn't even touched the ropes!

Once he was on the ground, Richard immediately spun to face the remaining counselors. The group was officially separated in half. "Which one of you is the lightest?" he asked.

Karen and Garfield stepped back, leaving Rachel and Jennifer to stare awkwardly at each other. Jennifer twirled a strand of pink hair around one finger. She probably had an inch or two on Rachel, but was probably ten pounds lighter.

"I vote Jennifer," Rachel offered. The girl in question raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"Yeah, whataya want me to do?" she asked Richard, snapping her gum. The impromptu leader pointed through one of the highest holes.

"You're going through that one. Everyone's going to have to lift you."

Jennifer's dark eyes widened slightly. "Uh…"

"No problem!" Karen said. Without waiting for comfirmation, she grabbed Jennifer around her waist. "Head or feet?"

"Head!" Jennifer cried out. Garfield and Rachel ran over to help. Rachel grabbed the girl's legs and Garfield held onto her shoulders. Gently, they lifted her almost above their heads and started to pass her through the hole. Victor and Wally were waiting to assist her on the other side. The entire time, Jennifer looked absolutely terrified.

"Stop worrying, Jinx," Wally chuckled, his arms locked under her shoulders. Jennifer blushed at the nickname, and Rachel briefly wondered if there was some sort of connection there. It wouldn't be surprising – the two had pretty much spent the last twenty-four hours together.

"You do realize that that's an oxymoron, right?" Victor joked, setting Jennifer's legs down.

"You next," Richard said as soon as Jennifer was on her feet. With a jolt of fear, Rachel realized he was pointing at her. It felt like all eyes were very suddenly on her. Which, technically, they were. "Rachel, you're going through that hole." He moved his hand so he was pointing to the hole parallel to Jennifer's. Rachel swallowed heavily.

"Oh, Lord," she mumbled.

"No worries, Rach," Garfield cried out. Without warning, he swept Rachel right off her feet into a bridal carry. Rachel blushed hotly, wishing she could be anywhere but there. Garfield's face was only inches from hers – she could smell the apple juice on his breath. His jade eyes glittered happily. Was it just her imagination, or did his hands tighten around her? Gar was surprisingly strong; she could feel his taut muscles under her back and legs.

Rachel could barely catch her breath as Gar hoisted her up higher with the help of Karen. Their hands pressed uncomfortably into her back, and Rachel had the sudden premonition of falling and breaking her neck. How incredibly embarrassing that would be. She could imagine them telling her mother: "She fell while we were passing her through a hole in a rope structure six feet in the air".

And then other hands reached up and supported her shoulders. She had been so preoccupied with dying that she hadn't noticed the rope passing over her head. With not much excitement and no death, Rachel was passed to the other side. In her opinion, too many people were touching her. Her butt had been unintentionally groped at least three times. When she was finally placed on the ground, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Karen and Garfield looked at each other, and then at Richard. "Middle hole," he said, flicking his hand dismissively. As far as he was concerned, the puzzle was over.

"Okay, hop up," Garfield said, squatting. He apparently wanted her to get on his shoulders.

Karen raised an eyebrow, cocking her hip out. "No way, string bean."

"What?" Gar asked, looking up at her. "How else are we gonna do this?"

Karen smiled. "Stand up." He obeyed. In a flash, she ducked between his legs and stood, forcing him onto her shoulders.

"Hey!" Gar yelled, half out of surprise and half out of indignation. "What'dya think you're doing, lady?"

"Helping you over," Karen said lightly. She leaned toward the hole, aiming Garfield's lanky body. "Go on."

Gar seemed to want to pout, but instead shoved himself through the hole. Victor moved to help him, but Garfield didn't seem to want to wait. He tumbled through and landed awkwardly on his back, the breath forced from his chest. Rachel found herself stepping forward to help him, but stopped herself. What was she doing? He was fine. He was laughing. Everyone was laughing but her.

After Karen stepped through the hole, everyone whooped and cheered. Mr. Kent congratulated them. Victor put Richard up on his shoulder while they walked back, much to the smaller man's embarrassment.

It took a moment for Rachel to realize that Garfield was lagging behind. She turned, worry flickering in her stomach. Gar was smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. His jaw was tight. Rachel stopped and waited for him to catch up.

"Hey, Rach," Gar said cheerfully. Rachel pursed her lips.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Garfield's smile disappeared, and he blinked at her.

"It's nothing," he said lightly. "Just my back. I think I landed on a rock or somethin'."

Rachel sighed. She _knew_ someone was going to hurt themselves doing that idiotic task. "Let me look," she said, stepping forward.

Garfield stepped back. "No, really, it's fine! I'm good to go!" He raised both arms in a victory posture, but winced slightly when he did so. Rachel rolled her eyes and darted forward. It was almost as if a nurse within her took over. Her mother was a nurse, so Rachel had learned a lot of basic (and not-so basic) first aid. She lifted Gar's shirt up all the way, exposing his back.

Just underneath one shoulder blade, the skin was turning red and starting to swell, the surefire sign of a bad bruise. Gently, Rachel prodded it with two fingers.

"Ow!" Gar whimpered. He shrunk away from her. "Damn, that smarts."

"We should get you some ice," Rachel murmured, half to herself. As quick as she had come, the nurse disappeared, and Rachel found herself standing in the middle of a trail holding a boy's shirt almost above his head. She blushed and let go of the fabric, letting it fall.

Gar turned toward her, cheeks pinkish. "I didn't know we had a doctor in the house." He smiled. Rachel couldn't meet his gaze.

"We don't," she mumbled. "Let's get some ice for that bruise."

Once they caught up, Mr. Kent pointed them in the direction of the infirmary, where there were icepacks in a small fridge. Gar sat on the cot off to the side while Rachel went and grabbed one. When she came back to him, she was struck with a very awkward situation.

"Um," she began, starting to blush again. Garfield raised his eyebrows innocently. Rachel swallowed and tried to regain some iota of her previous seriousness. "You need to take your shirt off."

Garfield laughed easily. "You just made it sound like I needed to take my boxers off! Jeez, Rach, I never knew you were such a prude." He grabbed the back of his shirt behind his neck and forced it over his head. Rachel tried not to look at his chest. Or abs. Or the hollows of his collarbones.

She quickly walked to the other side of the cot and pressed the icepack to the developing bruise. Gar hissed and tensed somewhat, muscles standing out for an instant. Rachel silently marveled at how wiry he was. Sure, Garfield was skinny, but _damn_ , he had musculature. _This is going to be the longest five minutes of my life_ , she thought.

"Thanks for doing this, Rach," he said, craning his neck to flash her a crooked smile. "It's real nice."

"Stop calling me Rach," Rachel mumbled. His hair was so messy in a way that it was attractive. How did that even work?

"Nah," Garfield sighed happily, turning around. "I like it."

"I don't."

Garfield chuckled. "Looks like we have a problem then."

Rachel took in his lean muscles and mussed hair. She could not keep denying how absolutely attractive he was.

 _Yeah,_ she thought. _We do._


End file.
